


keep me alive (make me cold)

by orphan_account



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 15:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18968131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He promised himself it would never happen again. That, of course, was a lie. It did happen again. And again. And again. It happened when they won and it happened when they lost. Eventually, Vova gave up on calling these instances mistakes. He gave up on making empty promises to himself. It was a Thing. Capital T and all.





	keep me alive (make me cold)

It was never supposed to become a Thing. It was supposed to be a mistake that they never ever talked about.  _ (Ever) _ . Vova had tried to keep it at bay. He really did. He’d managed to keep the flood gates closed for so long. When it all started to pour through the cracks, he slammed his fingers over the holes and kept it back. But his arms had grown tired and his muscles weary. And now, it was a Thing. Capital T.  

The first time had been a mistake. That he was sure of. All the times after? Well, he'd best keep his mouth shut about those. But the first time was undoubtedly, absolutely, unequivocally, a mistake. They'd come off a big win. There had been smiles and hugs and alcohol. Oh yes, plenty of alcohol. He couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten from point A to point B, but one thing led to another and by morning, he was in Colton's bed. 

Colton had been asleep when he awoke. After a moment or two (or three or four or…) of panic, he swallowed his pride and dressed. He'd never taken a walk of shame before. It'd been a new and strange feeling. He’d hated it. 

They didn't talk about it. Vova half wondered if he'd dreamed the whole encounter. But in the locker room the next day, Colton took off his shirt. On his back had been an array of scratch marks. Red and vicious and plentiful. A modern-day scarlet letter. Vova's breath had hitched. He’d willed his fingers to move faster as he laced up his right skate. He’d jolted to his feet and shuffled out the door. His hands, shaking. His head, stiff. Refusing to turn around, he’d heard Dunner make some witty remark about Colton 'makin' 'em go wild'. And Vova swore he felt eyes on him.  

After that, he promised himself it would never happen again. That, of course, was a lie. It did happen again. And again. And again. It happened when they won and it happened when they lost. Eventually, Vova gave up on calling these instances mistakes. He gave up on making empty promises to himself. It was a Thing. Capital T and all.

**V**

He laid in Colton's bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sweat stuck to his forehead and his chest and his thighs. He was panting a little. Colton's head was half on his shoulder and he was starting to doze off. Vova remained very still as not to disturb him. They won tonight.  _ Or last night? Was it past midnight already?  _ Vova couldn't tell. 

When he was certain that Colton was asleep, he gently pushed his head off his shoulder and slid himself out from under the blankets. He let his fingers remain in Colton's hair for a moment too long. He didn't even bother to curse himself for it. He was too exhausted. Besides, no harm, no foul. 

He picked up a discarded t-shirt that he was almost sure was his own and wiped his forehead. Pulling on a sweatshirt and boxers from the floor, he made his way to the window. It was open and the night air penetrated into the room. Somewhere far away, there were still cars on the street, making noise and letting their presence be known. But here, the night was quiet. And still. Vova sighed, leaning against the window sill. He needed a breath of fresh air; the room stank of sweat and sex. He tapped his fingers against the cool edge of the window. Three deep breaths in, three out. It’d been a long day.

He rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure, but it felt as if the bags under his eyes had grown. He glanced up at his faint reflection in the cracked window. His dark circles seemed to have grown. He frowned. His limbs felt heavy as lead. He wanted to collapse. He’d been shoved into the boards one too many times and his body was screaming at him for it. 

He turned back to face the bed. Colton had rolled over on his side and now only occupied one side of the bed. It would be so easy for Vova to slide under the covers and bury his face into Colton’s back. He ached to climb in and just drift to sleep. That bed had never seemed so inviting. He swallowed thickly, yearning for nothing more than to rest comfortably, his body surrounded by pillows and blankets and the warmth of another person. But he couldn’t.

It didn’t work like that. These hookups were just that: hookups. Vova wasn’t meant to fall asleep in Colton’s bed. He was supposed to dress quickly and call whatever Uber would be willing to take him this late. Else, they would be teetering on the edge of romance (an absolute folly). 

So he did the sensible thing. He gathered his clothes and got dressed. As he finished lacing up his right shoe, he called himself an Uber.  All the while, forcing himself to list the reasons why this was the right thing to do. Every time he got the urge to fall unconscious against the bed, he quietly reminded himself that doing so would only lead to problems. (Oh, so many problems). Now wasn’t the right time to open that can of worms. There might never be a right time. He glanced to Colton and told himself he was okay with that. 

He shut the window and did a once over of the room. He needed to be careful not to forget anything.  _ Leave no trace _ , he thought. As his hand rested on the doorknob, his eyes lingered on Colton. Then, his phone buzzed. The driver was only one minute away. Now or never. 

Vova was careful to shut the door quietly. He quickly made his way down the steps and to the car. And whether he pressed a kiss to Colton’s forehead before he did? Well, that was nobody’s business but his own.


End file.
